


The Destroyer and The Thief of Lightning, or a Irresponsible Middle-Schooler Who Prevents World War III (Hiatus + Being Rewritten)

by vinnywrites



Series: 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘂𝘀 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗶𝗮 𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐑 & 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑹 [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: #LESBIANS, Afro Brazilian Percy Jackson, Afro Brazilian Sally Jackson, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst with a Happy Ending, Annabeth is a queen, Argentinian Annabeth Chase, BAMF Percy Jackson, BAMF Sally Jackson, Biracial Grover Underwood, Black Persephone (Percy Jackson), Bro Sucks, Dark Annabeth Chase, Dark Comedy, Dark Greek Gods, Dark Luke Castellan, Dark Percy Jackson, F/F, F/M, Female Percy Jackson, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kind of a fix-it, M/M, Multi, Other, POC Annabeth Chase, POC Grover Underwood, POC Percy Jackson, POC Sally Jackson, POV Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson Is SO Done, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Percy Jackson is a Mess, Poseidon (Percy Jackson) is a Bad Parent, Raped Medusa (Percy Jackson), Sally Jackson is a Good Parent, YALL Annabeth haters can fite me m8, annabeth is staying a girl i changed my mind aGain, anyway I’m only surviving on determinedness to rewrite this horrible story, grover is the best bro out there, i kept making mistakes in the summary, if u got any lmao, meaning she cannot tolerate herself, percy cannot tolerate idiots, self loathing hours are her only hours, starting with title summary and tags, that’s why there’s so many post notifications, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnywrites/pseuds/vinnywrites
Summary: ❝ 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝔀𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘! 𝖨, 𝐏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝐂𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗂𝖺 𝐉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗈𝗇, 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎—𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝙤𝙛 𝖶𝖺𝗋—𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝖾𝗅! ❞ — 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙮 𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝Meet Percy Jackson—a tiny, black latina middle-schooler whose vocabulary seems to only contain vulgar wording and colorful insults. She breaks the school rules by wearing an old leather jacket instead of the blazer that’s required of the uniform. She smokes, gets high and is constantly in trouble while still maintaining decent grades.Her biggest problems used to be telling her mother on how she got expelled from school (again) but it seems this year, her biggest concern is not dying.Not dying seemsreeeeeallynice.





	1. 𝘗. 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘪𝘢 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯 : 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡⁰

* * *

**PERSEUS CASSIOPEIA JACKSON,**

_Daughter of Sarah Jackson & Greek God: Poseidon._

Princess of the Sea, Controller of Water and Natural Disasters.

* * *

**❝** <strike>No hero has ever been happy, **_I’ll be the first_**</strike>❞

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

**THE ORIGIN STORY**

**S**_arah "_Sally_” _Jackson is a beautiful woman, with hip-length dark brown curly hair and soft blue eyes that seemed to be the colour of the sky. She had the aura of a woman that knew what she was doing, but the truth: she didn’t. She dropped out of high school to permanently take care of her guardian, her uncle — Paulinho Jackson. Her efforts were in vain. Paulinho had passed away from cancer.

The man was the definition of home, caring and loving, and you never want to leave him. Her uncle was just that kind of person, always attracting people and making sure they stay no matter what. He was a people person, he loved being in a room surrounded by people, he enjoyed interacting, and his hugs were the best. She always felt safe and felt like nothing could hurt her when he was hugging her.

It proved her theory that “the best kind of people had the worst luck.” Her great aunt, Cassiopeia, was an intelligent and hard-headed woman that refused to die. Cassiopeia Jackson believed in reincarnation and God (but always called the Bible bullshit because it was technically human-made) and told Sally that “you are paying for your sins from your past life to your current one. It does not matter if you’re good now, matters if you were bad before.” Sally didn’t believe in God, nor any of that reincarnation “bullshit” her great-aunt always spit out. In her opinion, at first, she still found great-aunt Cassiopeia slightly crazy.

She loves the woman, really, but Cassiopeia always claimed she saw things. Doctors diagnosed her with schizophrenia, but her great-aunt contended that she wasn’t crazy and yes! That the man behind them did only have one eye, and it was in the middle of his forehead! Sally agreed with the doctors and the rest of her family, no matter how much they loved great aunt Cassiopeia, they all thought she was crazy. Her grandfather claimed that the Jackson family was a family of mediums — a human being that could see and interact with spirits. Sally also thought he was crazy.

It was only when great-aunt Cassiopeia died that Sally began seeing things too. Not like spirits, as her grandfather claimed, but started seeing things for what they are. Her pretty Caucasian neighbour, with bright blonde hair and pretty pale blue eyes and a lovely smile, suddenly wasn’t so charming anymore. Her legs are made of steel, and she didn’t look so pretty anymore. It wasn’t just her neighbour that changed — it was almost everyone.

Some people still looked the same, but now there men and women suddenly so tall that they should have back problems but don’t. Some of them have thousands of eyes, and with ones that only do have one eye — it was in the middle of their forehead, and those things so didn’t even have eyebrows! Sally couldn’t imagine not having eyebrows, call her vain all you want, but her hair and thick eyebrows were her pride. Her everything.

When her uncle died, she started getting more and more jobs to keep herself off the streets. She also went to the public library more often, not having a library card she couldn’t take the books home, but she found out what those things were. The one-eyed men she saw were Cyclops, a Greek monster.

Maybe, great aunt, crazy Cassiopeia wasn’t so crazy after all. Suddenly, things got even stranger if more possible.

On a bad morning, while she was mourning for her uncle and thinking her life was fucking over because she dropped out of high school didn’t even have enough money — a dog tripped her. It was a dog but also wasn’t. It collars read ‘Spot,’ but it had three heads, all three tongues sticking out and — what, six? — eyes were staring back into her own.

”Sorry about that,” a deep voice reached her ears, and she looked up, and she felt the urge to bow down and start calling this guy ‘her lord’ or something weird. She’s Sally motherfucking Jackson, no matter how broke she is or how her future looks really, really, bad — she isn’t calling anybody and anyone ‘her lord.’ “He gets excited about meeting new people. He’s usually in our backyard?” _Our_? 

Beside the tall, like really tall but like natural tall but still really fucking fall, guy was a beautiful woman. Her skin was darker than her own, and she had dyed light pink hair, and she hoped that those were lavender coloured contacts. Sally knew what contacts looked like (from all those emo kids in her school) and those looked like real eyes that colour was lavender. While the guy made her want to bow down, this woman made Sally wish to commit suicide for even looking at her wrongly.

She felt in the presence of royalty. Not even royalty — people that were so much more important than royalty. “Are you okay?” The woman asked, a kind and loving look in her eyes as she crouched down before Sally. Sally also noticed that while they both wore leather jackets, they also wore flower crowns. It fitted the woman more than the man, and not just because she was a woman.

Instead of replying, Sally scrambled away — ignoring how her heart clenched when the three-headed dog whined. There was only one dog that she could think at the top of her head that was three-headed: Cerberus, and he belonged to the Underworld.

_And the underworld belongs to..._ Sally wanted to cry as she continued to run away. The hell belonged to Persephone _and_ Hades! Technically, they were royalty but also so much more than royalty; they were fucking _gods_.

Yeah, great aunt, Cassiopeia wasn’t crazy.

There were other days that she bumped into other gods, such as Apollo hanging out with his sister? Daughter?, Hebe. They were in a music shop, while all the gods look like very inhumanly attractive humans — Sally could tell the difference between a mortal and a god. It was their aura, the vibe and the power they practically screamed I-AM-IMPORTANT-YOU-PEASANT.

Apollo looked like your regular rich California white boy, bright yellow-blonde hair with a gleaming smile that screamed Look-At-If-You-Want-To-Be-Blinded. He wore expensive clothing, such as a Gucci jacket. In some ‘myths,’ Hebe is the daughter of Zeus and Hera while in others she is the daughter of Apollo. Sally didn’t know which one, and she didn’t want to find out.

Hebe looked like a twelve-year-old girl, with dark brown curls sprouting out of her head with blue eyes with flecks of gold in them. She looked a biracial child, with the lack of melanin in her eyes. They both ignored her, and Apollo was holding a DVD of Elvis, trying to convince Hebe that some of his music was good while Hebe disagreed. “He’s a racist!”

”No way!” Apollo said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve met the dude; he’s never been in Boston or on that show that people claimed that he said that on.”

Sally heard of the rumours of Elvis Presley being a racist; if he was, it was a shame since he grew up in a black neighbourhood, or so she read. But that didn’t matter at the moment; Sally didn’t want any interaction with any of the gods now that she learned that they were real. 

It wasn’t just Greek Gods — it seemed as if all of the mythology decided to come into existence. At one time, when she was at Montauk — a small cabin that her uncle left her near the beach — she saw a woman. She was tall, with broad shoulders and large muscles. She had long dreads the touched the ground, and her eyes seemed to be changing — to the colour of the sea before her, then a Caribbean green and so on. The woman looked at Sally and raised a thick eyebrow. Sally immediately knew this was Iemanja, the African Goddess of the Sea and Riches.

“You see through the mist.” She had a thick African accent; her voice was creamy and smooth and sent pleasurable shivers down Sally’s spine. “Be careful,” Iemanja started walking towards the water and suddenly evaporated.

”W-What...” she gasped, staring at the sea. Suddenly, she heard a chuckle behind her and let out a yelp.

”Iemanja is always like that.” A man with a Hawaiian shirt said. He had deep brown skin and eyes like Iemanja — ever-changing to green or blue of different seas and lakes. “Warning mortals and running off.” He had a charming smile on his lips, and Sally suddenly forgot how to speak. “I’m Poseidon.”

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

Suddenly she was pregnant. Two months after Iemanja disappeared into the air and Poseidon introduced herself — she was pregnant. Six months passed, meanings it’s been seven months since she met Poseidon. It was the very reason why she avoided the gods in the first place. She read the myths, every time a mortal interacted with the gods' something terrible happens. You either get killed or turned into something because of jealousy of _that_ god, died because of the gods' _spouse_ or ended up getting _pregnant_. Sally, unfortunately, ended up getting pregnant and having massive break downs throughout the entire pregnancy.

Poseidon, the fucking nerve of him, wasn’t even there throughout the whole pregnancy. Sally can feel her great aunt Cassiopeia cursing at her, yelling at her that she was so fucking stupid and she couldn’t but agree. 

Gods only brought trouble and then blame you when something goes wrong. She felt like crying — no, she was crying, and she was holding herself as she rocked herself back and forth.

Oh, Hades _dick_, how was she going support this kid? How, in the world, is she even going to take care of this little human being that could destroy the world with the snap of a finger, when she can’t also take care of herself? She was screwed, ultimately screwed. All the rest of her family is in Brazil, and she didn’t want to be screamed in the face by everyone — even the babies — for not also being twenty yet and she’s pregnant, she knows the man and the man knows that she’s pregnant, and _woosh_, the dude abandoned her. 

She felt thick tears stream down her face, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She can’t support herself, she can barely pay rent, and she isn’t going to sell Montauk — it’s the only thing she has of her uncle that she hasn’t sold yet. 

She wanted to go to the beach and scream for Poseidon — not Oceanus, Iemanja or any other Sea god/goddess. That how dare he knock her up and leave her alone, knowing full well that can barely support herself. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself as she laid a hand on her belly. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” 

She tried bringing her knees up, to wrap her arms around them and cry into them but then she couldn’t, and she cried even more. She felt fat; she didn’t also think that pretty anymore and god — her face is so fucking swollen. She banged her head against the bathroom wall, and a weak whimper escaped her lips.

Fuck Poseidon — and not in a satisfactory way, either.

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

Why in the world was this baby so small? Babies couldn’t be this small; it’s not psychically able to be this little. Was something wrong with her baby? Oh Persephone’s _tits_, was something wrong with her baby? There couldn’t be anything wrong with her baby; her baby is a fucking Jackson and an Afro-Brazilian — there can’t be anything wrong with her baby.

”Ms. Jackson,” the nurse said. She was a small and petite woman — not as small as Sally, damnit — with bright red hair and vivid green eyes. “What are you gonna name your daughter?”

Daughter — that’s right, _daughter_. Poseidon has said that he's had daughters, but never demigod daughters — was his plan all along to get her pregnant that _motherfucker_ — but, if what he says is true, along with “every demigod has a hero’s fate.”...

_Oh, fuck me harshly with a chainsaw three times, Zeus_. Sally thought as she looked at the ceiling, and she heard distant thundering nearby and cursed herself. Were names that powerful that you couldn’t even _think_ of them? What the fuck — _what the fuck_. What the fuck, she has a daughter and that said daughter is the first-ever half-mortal kid to the king of the seas, who controls water and the majority of the earth is water.

Fucking Jackson luck, man, the next time she sees Poseidon — she’s going to fucking pummel him to the ground and find a way to kill a god by a mortals hand.

Fucking _Jackson luck_.

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

”Sally, _please_—”

”You fucking _bastard_!”

”Sally, calm down — please—”

”Vaca!” He dodged a shoe thrown at his direction and stood up to save a very, angry Sally with a two-year-old baby clapping her hands. Did Sally call him a _cow_? “You left me alone!” The woman screamed rage was the only thing on her face and mind. “Poor, pregnant, depressed, with a powerful daughter in my stomach that already attracts monsters when she’s not even born?” Poseidon was shocked.

”You were being attacked? _Already_?”

”It’s not only the sea, you control, _right_, puta?” He nodded, ignoring the insult. “You control water as a whole, correct?” After a moment of silence, he nodded again. “If this baby inherits your powers—” he noticed that she already had gray strands in her dark brown hair, and she was only what? — Twenty-two? He heard somewhere that if a human being was stressed enough, their hair turns gray or white. “She can control everything, okay? The earth, humans, animals — everything. Because water is the source of _everything_.” His eyes widened. Maybe Athena is right and he is a seaweed brain after all. He did realize this, and not many of his immortal children could boil humans alive but knowing his and his future child’s luck — she was gonna be able to do that.

Oh _fuck_. “And you said, you broke the prophecy? To not have children, ever?” He nodded, and she sat on the uncomfortable couch, cradling his child — whose name he didn’t even know — to her chest. “And she’s your first ever mortal daughter?” He nodded, and Sally started sobbing. “The moment I find out how to kill a god—“ he helped her wipe her tears away, but she slapped his hand away. “You’re on top of my fucking hit-list, you piece of shit.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle but stopped as soon as Sally threw him a glare and another shoe. Where are these heels coming from? “Who else is on your hitlist?”

”Artemis.”

”_Artemis_?” Poseidon was shocked. “Why, Artemis?”

”She’s the Goddess of childbirth and she let this _happen_!” 

“Sally, that’s not how it works—” he paused and looked at the baby that was giggling. She looked like Sally, with Sally’s dark chocolate skin and deep dimples and curly hair but everything else was him. Her eyes were a bright water blue, mostly because of the glass of water on the coffee table. Her hair was pitch black, curls already sprouting from her head. She was smiling, and her deep dimples showed, and Poseidon almost cooed. “What’s her name?”

Sally stopped crying and started hitting his shoulder, anger once again evident in her eyes and face. “What the hell!” She screamed, and his kid started clapping; he almost yelled, “_don’t encourage her,_” but couldn’t since Sally began to slap his _face_!

It didn’t hurt him, but _Jesus Christ_ does this woman hit and curse a lot. “Sally! _Please_!”

”_You’re the shittiest dad in the whole universe, you piece of crap!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet yeet, this was pretty short. for the rest of the chapters it’s gonna be all about percy. 
> 
> (edit: when i planned this story annabeth was gonna be a guy but when i started writing throughout the story and catradora basically took over my life and decided to make them lesbians skssozgsbs, so annabeth is a girl AGAIN and also latina if you don’t like eat my ass)
> 
> also, i didn’t know how to start this story. i knew i wanted to start the second chapter the way the first chapter in the lightning thief starts but i needed something for the prologue and this came to mind and it’s basically revolves around sally having a mini breakdown and cursing all of the gods besides ... God.
> 
> also this ain’t edited, sue me.
> 
> edit: i edited this with grammarly don’t sue me


	2. 𝘗. 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘪𝘢 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯 : 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡⁰¹

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy Jackson, daughter of the best woman in the world, was a trouble-maker no matter what. Anytime she went on a field trip, for example, something bad just happens. She swears it nots her fault, but nobody (except for her mother) believes her.
> 
> She promised herself nothing could go wrong on this one, oh how wrong she was.

* * *

**PERSEUS CASSIOPEIA JACKSON,**

_Daughter of Sarah Jackson & A deatbeat dude_

Natural Trouble-Maker.

* * *

**❝** <strike>UNSTABLE LIKE THE SEA</strike>❞

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

**THE _ACTUAL_ ORIGIN STORY**

**P**_ercy _Jackson was well-known throughout Yancy Academy. She wasn’t the only Afro-Latin student there, but it was that she looked. Many called her exotic looking simply because of her eyes on how they resembled the sea or how they thought she was wearing a “weave” or a wig since they never saw 3B/3C hair _that_ long (hip length).

Percy Jackson was the definition of a “troubled kid,” and not a child that pulled pranks or talked back to teachers (she does that too). For example, anytime she went on field trips, something terrible but also funny happens.

Fourth grade — the school she was attending during that year was taking a field trip to an aquarium, and when her class was taking a tour behind the scenes Marine World shark pool — she pulled a lever, because it was bright red and begging to be pulled, and so she did.

Her class took an unplanned swim.

Fifth grade — a completely different school; also, she and her class took a field trip to the Saratoga Battlefield. She went behind a cannon, wanting to see if it would work, and accidentally hit the school bus. In her defence: she wasn’t aiming for the school bus in the first place.

No more examples.

Percy Jackson is in sixth grade now, and she’s determined to be good this time, and also because her favourite teacher was supervising this trip: Mr. Brunner, her Latin teacher. He was this old, disabled guy that used a wheelchair everywhere and he looked like your old classic coffees addicted but also boring Latin teacher. She couldn’t be more wrong.

The only class she only paid attention to was his because he made learning _exciting_. He owned an old collection of both Roman and Greek armour. He would occasionally take an ageing sword out, and point at one of his students and demand them to name one of the Roman or Greek gods. Latin was interesting enough since the only thing you learn in it was said shit in a violent way, but he made everything so much more enjoyable.

What bummed Percy out was the other teacher that was on that field trip — Mrs. Dodds.

Mrs. Dodds looks like a cool but also a stern teacher. She wears a black leather jacket and black sunglasses and rides a motorcycle, relaxed for a math teacher — only if you’re on her nice side. Ever since Percy has entered Yancy Academy, Mrs. Dodds had dubbed Percy as the devils' spawn and the biggest bully in Percy’s year as an angel: Nancy Bobofit.

She was thin, really skinny and lean and her freckles looked like someone spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos. Her hair was bright and vivid red, and her eyes were blue, and her teeth were crooked and golden as if she ate lots of Doritos. All in all — Nancy Bobofit better prays that puberty treats her well. Percy also heard that Nancy was the only girl in their grade that hadn't hit puberty yet.

While tall, she barely had any muscles while Percy was short and did. Percy’s mother — Sally Jackson — put Percy in martial arts. While Sally is very humble about certain things: she takes pride in her looks and always calls Percy that most pretty girl in the world and how she would need to learn how to protect herself because of how cute she is. Sally may be the best mom, but she’s also probably the vainest.

Anyway, Nancy is ugly inside _and_ out. She picked on kids younger then her — since Yancy Academy is a school that goes through first to twelfth grade — and always tries to pick a fight with Percy. Percy usually slams her into the locker and makes her cry, and then the next day, Nancy tries to assert her dominance.

Nancy didn’t only pick on younger kids — she picked on easy targets, while Percy would never consider herself easy in any way, her best friend, Grover Underwood, was.

Grover had ginger hair with probably 4C curls, and he also had vitiligo— where in some areas of your skin lacked colour. He had large spots of pale skin on his face and throughout his entire body. He also had this weird limp, but Percy isn’t so sure about it. Grover couldn't lie about anything, so Percy is like fifty percent sure that his limp is fake because when the cafeteria serves enchiladas — his limp is gone. He also always wears this dark blue cap, even when he was sleeping.

Yancy Academy is a private school with dorms, and just by looking at Percy’s full first name — Perseus — they decided to put her in the boy section of dorms. Imagine her shock when Grover came into the form, she proceeded to scream at him and call him a pervert and throw her sandals at him. They’ve been best friends since.

Back at Nancy picking at easy targets — Grover is an easy target. He refuses to stick up for himself despite Percy giving him confidence lessons. He also cries easily, Percy remembers one time that she accidentally yelled her voice at him once when she was having a bad day, and the edges of his eyes prickled with tears. Percy immediately hugged him, whispering to him softly that she won’t raise her voice again in the future.

Grover was her world, besides her mother. She’ll rather kill herself then make him sad.

While Nancy only picks at Percy when teachers are around, she also (unfortunately) knows that Percy has a huge heart. Percy takes bullied kids under her wing, so Nancy knows that the best way to get under Percy’s skin was to pick those close to her.

Not only was Nancy gross in personality and looks, but also her tastes. She had peanut butter and ketchup sandwich and was throwing pieces at Grover’s hair. Percy was determined to be good on this trip, but damn it that _gringo_ was making it hard.

”That's it.” She almost stood up on a moving bus, but Grover tugged her down by her hood. The jacket belonged to her father, and while Percy said to herself and everyone around that she could care less about her father — it was the only item her, and her mom had.

It somehow smelled like him, or what her mother described what he smelt like. It smelled like the sea, fresh and salty water. Percy assumes that her mother bathed the thing in cologne for it to smell this strong. She ignored the fact that she hadn’t seen her mother in months and the smell should’ve been gone.

”I’m gonna kill her,” Percy snarled while Grover grabbed her small hand and rubbed circles around her knuckles. Grover gave her one of his many warm, and comforting smiles and Percy instantly relaxed. 

“You’re on probation,” Grover reminded her softly. Grover had always been soft-spoken; while her mother was naturally loud, she never yelled at Percy, much like Grover never yelled at anyone. “You can’t act out, and you have to behave on this field trip, you know that Percy.” Percy huffed and wrapped the jacket around herself tighter.

The bus stopped, and Percy’s class walked into the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They’ve been walking around, Mr. Brunner occasionally stopping at a statue or an art piece to talk about, all of them were Greek or Roman. Percy thought that Greek and Roman Mythology was weird and all the gods needed some therapy, but she had to admit while strange, it was interesting. Percy regretted listening to music so loudly because she could barely hear Mr. Brunner, or maybe is Nancy giggling with the popular girls.

Nancy was a follower; there was no doubt about that. The group she hanged out with didn’t even like her; every time they stopped and talked to Percy, they would tell shit about Nancy. While the things they said about Nancy were funny, she didn’t find it as funny because they were pretending to be her friend. What a bunch of fake bitches.

Mr. Brunner eventually stopped at a thirteen feet tall statue, and Percy couldn’t help but stare at the couple. The man was tall and a scythe and looked intimidating while handsome. The woman had long, curly black hair that touched the floor. It blew Percy’s mine that these statues were created nearly thousands of years ago but could still look so realistic and the detail of the clothing was incredible. 

Mr. Brunner opened his mouth to talk, but then the girls had started giggling even louder if possible. Whenever Percy tried to tell them to shut up, Mrs. Dodds would glare at Percy. This time, Percy ignored Mrs. Dodds's glare and told the girls to shut up.

Unfortunately, Percy didn’t know how to whisper correctly because it came out louder than intended. She’s thankful for her dark skin that her cheeks didn’t show that she was blushing. The whole group started giggling, and she saw Mrs. Dodds at the corner of her smirk a little. That white southern bitch.

”Ms. Jackson,” Mr. Brunner said, raising a graying brow towards Percy’s direction. “Do you have something to say?” Percy felt her ears burn and shifted on her feet.

”No, sir.” She mumbled, averting her gaze while she shoved her hands into the oversized jacket that made her seem smaller.

”Then perhaps, could tell me who these are?” He pointed towards the big statue, and Percy fixed her slouched posture.

”That's Kronos,” thundering was heard, but Percy continued, “And his wife, Rhea, sir. The king and queen of the gods.” The whole group went silent, Percy had that effect (she hates it though). Whenever she’s talking, people stop talking and pay attention to her.

”Gods?” Mr. Brunner questioned, and she bit her lip.

”T-Titans — queen and king of the titans.”

”And whats the most well-known myth about Kronos and his family?” Mr. Brunner said, wheeling himself over to be beside the statue.

”Kronos ate his kids, right? Because he didn’t trust them, and a prophecy said that they were gonna overthrow him?” At Mr. Brunner’s encouraging nod when Percy hesitated to continue or not. “But his wife, Rhea, hid baby Zeus and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead—” Percy kept the comment to herself that Zeus must’ve been an ugly baby. “—and later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked Kronos into giving this nasty drink and then Kronos threw up his brothers and sisters.” She also kept the comment that Kronos must’ve had that eight pack disappear a long time ago because the siblings came out as full-grown out adults.

All the girls, except for Percy, started gagging when she mentioned the fact that Kronos threw up his children. “And so there was a war between the gods and the Titans. The gods won.” Mr. Brunner raises his eyebrows at Percy; an impressed look on his face since she just described a long war in only a few sentences.

Behind Percy, the only one that giggled was Nancy Bobofit, and Percy cringed at the sound. “Like we’re gonna use this in real life,” she whispered to a tall, African-American girl with a large afro. “Like it’s gonna say on our job applications, _please explain why Kronos ate his kids_?”

Mr. Brunner's eyes twinkled and cocked a brow. “An excellent question, Ms. Bobofit—” the whole class minus Percy, Grover, Mrs. Dodds and him, snickered. Grover did, however, mutter ‘busted’ under his breath. “To paraphrase her question, how does this matter in real life—” Mr. Brunner start Percy down as if she had all the answers he was looking for. “_Perseus_ Jackson?”

Some kids started ooing since Mr. Brunner used her actual first name. Sometimes she wished her mother named her Persephone instead, it has the same meaning as Perseus, and it sounds prettier. “Don’t ...” she scratched her chin. “Have kids? Or if you do, don’t eat them?”

”Great job, Jackson.” One of the boys yelled out, a smug smirk on his thin lips. Dylan, whatever his last name was, was the supposedly hottest boy in their grade and had been trying to get with Percy since the beginning of the year. He also had the brightest smile ever, Percy prided herself over her white teeth, but this kid took brushing his teeth to the next level. He should come with a warning. DO-NOT-LOOK-AT-TEETH-IF-YOU-WANT-TO-BE-TEMPORARILY-BLIND. He seemed cool at first until he had called her exotic and she punched him in the face. “_Don’t eat your kids_.” He mocked. “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

”Don’t call me _sweetie_.” Percy muttered and cross her arms, while Grover snickered beside her. At one point, Percy told Grover that she believed both Mrs. Dodds and Dylan were monsters. He looked at her and said: _you’re entirely right._

Mr. Brunner cleared his throat, drawing all attention towards him. “Half credit, Ms. Jackson.” Percy almost said something witty but held back. She wasn’t exactly wrong. “Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?”

”Hey Percy,” the African-American girl from earlier muttered — pretty smile on her face. Percy didn’t have the most excellent experiences with guys, the only ones she liked were Grover and Mr. Brunner, and that was only platonically and in a mentor-student way. However, Percy was always more attracted to girls and found herself drooling on how pretty girls can be. 

Kayla Johnson, she was tall and pretty and had the most beautiful smile. “Wanna join my friends and me for lunch? You can bring Grover, too.” Not only was Kayla pretty and sweet on the outside, but it was also on the inside. Percy has never seen her talk shit about anybody. She also had the right amount of confidence in herself, which Percy admired because Percy’s confidence only came through when she was beating someone up.

“Ms. Jackson,” Grover had already gone on ahead and was already talking about fruits and plants with one of the vegetarians in Kayla’s friend group. Kayla's shoulders slumped, and a pout formed on her face. “A moment, please?”

Percy shot Kayla an apologetic look, but she only smiled — she noticed it was smaller than usual — and walked towards her friend group. Kayla immediately engaged Grover into a conversation, and Percy sighed. She is so pretty. “Ms. Jackson?” Mr. Brunner snapped his fingers in front of her face.

”Sorry,” Percy shifted her feet. “What did you want to talk about, sir?”

He sighed, “you must learn the answer to my question, Ms. Jackson.”

”About the Titans?”

”About real life.” He stressed. “And how your studies apply to it.” Percy let her mouth from an ‘o’ for a spilled second. “What you learn from me is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such.” Percy almost huffed right then and there and almost stomped her foot like a child. It was Greek and Roman Mythology unless she wanted to work at a museum for the rest of her life — which she didn’t — she didn’t need to remember this.

Mr. Brunner always expected more from her; she’s the only one with an A+ In his class and he still excepts more. This guy pushes her so hard. “I will only accept the best from you,” he had this look in his eyes that people couldn’t look away — as if he saw things that people didn’t, as if he was alive for a long time. “_Perseus Cassiopeia Jackson_.” Percy shivered at the use of her full name.

Percy muttered something under her breath about trying harder, but Mr. Brunner wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at a stele with a sad look in his eyes like he’d been to the girls' funeral — the nerve.

Percy strolled outside, and she glanced around. The weather has been weird since Christmas. Massive snowstorms, flooding, even wildfires from lightning strikes. Percy wouldn’t be surprised if a hurricane hits soon.

What was the weirdest thing is that nobody noticed. Maybe it was a wealthy kid privilege because they’ll always have money to fall back on so they don’t worry about their houses burning down. Perhaps it was just Percy; after all, the majority of the weird weather has been happening around where she lives, and she wonders if her mother was okay.

“Percy!” Kayla waved, and Percy clutched her jacket closer to her — since it was has been starting to get cold, and started walking towards Kayla’s direction. Surprisingly, one of Kayla’s friends, a pretty and petite red-head, was flirting with Grover. “What happened?”

Grover snapped his attention when he noticed that Percy was finally there, and the red-headed pouted. Percy noticed that she was prettier than Nancy. What was her name again? Barbara? Bambi? Percy knew it started with a ‘Ba.’

”Did you get detention?” Grover questioned, and Percy shook her head. 

“Nah,” she crossed her arms closer to herself — trying to provide warmth. Even though the jacket was large and warm, Percy was one to get _effortlessly_ cold no matter how many sweaters or jackets she was wearing. “It’s Brunner, wish he lay off of me, sometimes though.” She shrugged. “I’m not a genius.”

”Don’t say that!” One of Kayla’s friends shouted. Her name was Jasmine, and she had an obsession with flowers. She was biracial, with deeply tan skin but with curly red hair and bright green eyes. “You’re plenty of smart, Percy!” Jasmine started shouting encouraging words, making Percy and everyone else around them chuckle.

Grover was silent, and for a second Percy thought he was going to sprout something inspirational or motivational like Jasmine did. In Percy’s opinion, he said something much better. “Can I have your apple?” He asked shyly, and everyone laughed.

They all eventually got tired of standing up and started walking towards the direction of the water fountain. One of the boys in Kayla’s group, Hudson, started making a joke until Nancy came over. She smiled, showing all of her crooked teeth and Percy saw Kayla cringe beside her. She then proceeded to dump half of her eaten lunch on Grover’s lap, making him and the red-headed girl beside him yelp. “Oops,” Nancy said, a crooked grin.

”My Gucci bag!” She yelled, thick streams of tears running down her pale cheeks. Grover tried helping but accidentally knocked the bag into the water fountain. “_Grover_!” She sobbed. Percy noticed it was the red-head flirting with him earlier.

Maybe later, she would find only a part of this humorous (the part where the girl's bag gets destroyed) but all Percy could feel at the moment was Rage. The school counsellor, after giving Percy stress balls to squeeze, said to count to ten and get control of her temper. It usually worked, but Percy’s mind went blank. A wave roared in her ears.

The next thing Percy knew, water — shaped like a fist — grabbed Nancy and threw her into the water fountain. Kayla’s whole group, including Grover, got drenched. They all started screaming and sobbing. “My _clothes_!” The red-head cried while Kayla began worrying over her hair.

Percy looked at Nancy, and couldn’t help but let a small giggle escape her. Nancy’s practically dead hair was even flatter and stuck to her thin cheeks. She was sitting on her ass, and thick tears started streaming down her face. “Percy pushed me!” She wailed. “That stupid black Mexican pushed me!”

Mexican?

_Mexican_?

Kayla started glaring at Nancy while Percy stepped into the water fountain, and raised a fist. The water started moving with Percy, and she didn’t notice at the time, but the water ran from her feet — creating a path leading directly towards Nancy.

”Ms. Jackson!” A familiar voice screeched. The water instantly slid back into place, and Percy turned around. Grover visibly gulped while the red-head beside him paled. 

Mrs. Dodds completely ignored Percy, opening her thin arms for Nancy which she hurled at and wrapped her arms around Nancy. Percy instantly felt homesick and yearned for the feeling of her mother’s arms around her. Her mother’s hugs were always the best, they made her feel warm and safe, and like nothing could ever hurt her.

After comforting Nancy, promising to buy her a new pair of clothes at the gift shop — turned towards Percy and Percy saw a wild glint in her beady eyes. The bitch has been waiting for Percy to screw up ever since her probation happened. “Now honey—”

”I know,” Percy muttered under her breath, glaring at Mrs. Dodds. “A month of erasing workbooks.” Percy cursed herself. _Remember rule number 5, girl. Never guess your punishment. _

It was the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Dodds started glaring at her. “Let’s talk a walk.” She snapped.

Jasmine instantly started protesting. “Percy didn’t even do anything!” She yelled, crossing her arms and glaring up at Mrs. Dodds. “In the Bible, it says you shall not punish the innocent. It is a sin, Mrs. Dodds!”

Percy never thought Mrs. Dodds could look amused, but she did. “Be quiet, Ms. Henderson.”

”It. Is. A. _Sin_!” 

While Jasmine was having a mini-argument with Mrs. Dodds, Percy saw Grover go to open his mouth, but she shook her head. “Don’t G-Man.” She said softly, watching as Mrs. Dodds's face full of amusement start changing to annoyance. “It’s not worth it.” Grover started whimpering, looking at Percy with wide, terrified eyes.

”Ms. Jackson,” Mrs. Dodds snapped, ignoring Jasmine as she now took the Holy Bible out of her bag and started waving it around wildly. Percy almost felt bad. “_Now_.”

Nancy looked smug as she watched Percy and Mrs. Dodds walk away, and Percy heard Kayla snap at Nancy. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Kayla growled as she wrapped her arms around Jasmine, who was still moaning about how Mrs. Dodds is an atheist and doesn’t respect God or her religion. 

* * *

For a moment, Percy almost believed that Mrs. Dodds was going to make Percy buy new pairs of clothes for Nancy, but they walked by the gift shop. Percy started fiddling with her hands as she tried catching up to Mrs. Dodds. Percy Maybe short — shorter then her mother — but Mrs. Dodds has to be almost six feet inches tall. Those woman’s legs were long.

Because of her ADHD, Percy had a hard time paying attention to the simplest of things, but it was starting to get ridiculous. Whenever she looked at something for a spilled second and looked back to Mrs. Dodds, she was already twenty feet away. She stopped walking and made impatient gestures for Percy to hurry up.

The school counsellor had told her that because of her ADHD, her brain misinterpreted things. Percy was convinced that it was the drugs that her doctors prescribed.

As they continued walking, Percy noticed a decrease in people. As soon as they entered the Greek and Roman section of the museum, which was back at the Museum, they were the only ones in the gallery.

Mrs. Dodds stopped in front of twelve statues, right in the middle. Percy noticed that it was the twelve Olympians. Mrs. Dodds was staring at Zeus. Hades and Poseidon were beside him and was making a weird sound that was coming out of her throat.

Was...

Was Mrs. Dodds..._growling_?

She didn’t have time to think about it because Mrs. Dodds started talking. “You have been rather problematic, Ms. Jackson.” Percy suddenly didn’t feel as relaxed as she did. 

She didn’t know what to say, so she said what she considered the safest option. “Yes, ma’am.”

Even though her back was turned towards Percy, she could feel Mrs. Dodds's glare. She turned around slowly, fiddling with the cuffs of her leather jacket. She started walking towards Percy, and Percy’s anxiety levels started rising every step she took towards Percy. She was walking as if she was the predator, and Percy was the prey, and she was going to eat Percy. 

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out, Ms. Jackson?” Mrs. Dodds snapped, and Percy thought she was talking about the stash of candy she sold to the younger kids or her stash of herbal cigarettes she smoked when school was getting to her. She thought about how they find out that she got her essay on Tom Swayer from the internet, and they were going to make her redo it and give her a failing grade regardless.

Or worse, they’ll make her read the book.

”I’ll try harder ma’am,” Percy promised as she fiddled with her fingers. 

“We are not fools, Destroyer.” Destroyer? Was she referencing to her name? “It was only a matter of time before we found out.” So she was talking about the candy, cigarettes or the essay. Even though Percy tried telling herself that, she felt odd.

Mrs. Dodds called her Destroyer instead of Percy Jackson or Ms. Jackson. “Well?” Mrs. Dodds questioned.

”Ma’am,” she said quietly as she took a few steps back. “I don’t know what...”

”You’re time is up.” Mrs. Dodds said, but it didn’t sound like Mrs. Dodds. Her voice got deeper and scratcher, and it hurt to listen.

Things started to get scary.

Percy heard clothes ripping, and saw wings — red wings with rips in them sprout from Mrs. Dodds back. Her skin started to get paler and paler until it didn’t look white; it looked grey and transparent. Her eyes began to glow, like barbecue coals and her fingers started stretching — getting longer and longer — until they were black talons. Her hair began growing too, getting thicker and longer until it touched the black. It seemed darker than Percy’s hair.

Mrs. Dodds started grinning, and instead of regular teeth — like Percy’s, Kayla’s or Grover’s — hers looked like it belonged to a wild, predator and was slowly turning yellow. “Die, storm-bringer.”

While things were scary, it was also strange. It got even more bizarre.

Mr. Brunner rolled into the room, and she didn’t bother questioning him since the gallery was in the back of the museum and he was at the front and threw a pen in the air towards the direction of Percy. “What ho, Percy!” He shouted.

”Mr. Brunner?!” She screamed as she scrambled away from Mrs. Dodds — who was a literal, actual, evil math teacher. “What am I going to do with a—” she almost impaled herself in the neck when the pen transformed into a sword.

”A sword...” she said quietly, turning the sword around, so she gripped the grip of the sword. She didn’t have time to think about how pretty the sword was or how a pen turned into a sword, Mrs. Dodds was in the air and was hurling towards her. Percy, who got lucky again, dodged as she heard the talons slash the air next to her ear.

Mrs. Dodds turned around, staring Percy down. Percy’s knees and ankles felt weak, and her arms felt heavy. Her hands were shaking so much that she almost dropped the sword. 

“Die, Percy Jackson!” She snarled, flying straight towards Percy.

Percy felt her body filled with absolute terror, and she did the thing that came naturally to her: she swung the sword.

The blade hit Mrs. Dodds on the shoulder, and Percy was thankful her eyes and mouth was closed because Mrs. Dodds literally exploded. Not body parts, but...sand

Percy slowly opened her eyes, and there was a pile of golden sand in front of her. She could build a massive sandcastle if she wanted too and if she had the right tools and some water. She still felt watched, as if Mrs. Dodds red eyes were still glaring at her.

She whipped her head around her wildly, but she and Mrs. Dodds, who turned into golden sand were the only ones in the room.

It was only her, a pile of Mrs. Dodds remains and... an anklet?

She stared down at her hand, it was golden, and there was a chain of the sword she was using was hanging from it. Wasn’t it a pen a moment ago?

It felt warm in her hand, and she felt relaxed. She tensed up when she remembered what happened moments ago.

She bent down, rolled up her jeans on her right side and clipped it on. She rolled down her jeans again, and the anklet was no longer visible. She barely ate, and she started thinking that maybe Dylan drugged her. 

* * *

She walked back outside, Kayla was laughing with her group, and Grover was being flirted by the red-head again. Nancy was trying to talk to Kayla’s group, and laughed when they laughed, but was ignored. When she noticed Percy go outside, she scowled. “I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt!” Nancy shouted, making the majority of the class look at Percy or Nancy.

”A big butt,” Dylan muttered to his friends, and they all laughed. Usually, Percy would’ve picked a fight or roasted him so hard into last week, but she didn’t.

She frowned. “Mrs. Kerr?”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Our teacher, duh!” She was about to make another comment, but a glare from Kayla shut her up. Probably was gonna make another ‘Mexican’ comment. She ignored that too.

Who the hell was Mrs. Kerr?

Percy walked towards Grover. “Where is Mrs. Dodds?” 

“Who?” Before even saying that Grover hesitated and averted his eyes.

”Mrs. Dodds?” Kayla muttered under her breath, and Jasmine looked at Percy with a concerned gaze. She ignored them and walked towards Mr. Brunner.

”Sir?” Percy questioned, and he looked up from the book he was reading. “Where’s Mrs. Dodds?”

He blinked. “Who?”

”Mrs. Dodds,” Percy said slowly as if she was talking to a toddler and not her favourite teacher. “The other chaperone. She teaches pre-algebra.”

He frowned and leaned forward, having a concerned expression on his face, much like Jasmine’s. “Percy,” he said quietly. “There is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip.” He said. “There has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Are you feeling alright?”

What the fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ain’t edited don’t drag me please.


	3. 𝘗. 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘪𝘢 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯 : 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦

* * *

**PERSEUS CASSIOPEIA JACKSON**

_Daughter of Sarah Jackson_

Delinquent, Good-For-Nothing-Bastard-Child, “Mexican”

* * *

**” ** _No hero has ever been happy—I’ll be the first._ ** ”**

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

**S**he wasn’t crazy—Perseus "Percy" Cassiopeia Jackson was a lot of things (things such as delinquent, a Bastard Child, daughter of a “Whore” [as the white kids like to say] and many other things) but Percy Jackson wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t like her mother’s aunt, Tia Cassiopeia.

After a little while, Percy thought she was going crazy. Nobody, absolutely nobody, remembered Mrs. Dodds. Nobody remembered the intimidating math teacher, who rode motorcycles, who wear leather jacket and favoured Nancy Bobofit over everybody else. Percy, only once in a while, would spring up a mention of Mrs. Dodds to somebody, but they would look at her weirdly.

She was almost fooled—if it weren’t for Grover Underwood.

Grover—her precious, sweet and vulnerable Grover—couldn’t lie even if his life depended on it. He was a terrible one, he would hesitate before opening his mouth, scratch his temple and then fiddle with his thumbs and then sprout out a lie. He claimed she didn’t exist, but Percy knew better.

Something happened at the museum—why else would she be having night terrors?

She would wake herself up by her own screams, having nightmares of Mrs. Dodds evil face and the first thing she would see when she woke up—was Mrs. Dodds, but then it would dissolved and instead of seeing Mrs. Dodds, she saw Grovers worried face. The patches of pale skin looked paler, and it was obvious that he heard Percy’s terrified screams. He looked like he was about to cry.

Percy Jackson was many things, but she wasn’t scared. She didn’t get scared—she protect those who did, not the other way around.

The only way she seems to be able to sleep when Grover’s arms are around her, as if he was protecting her from the dark. His were too tight, and she would always sweat to much because he was always way to warm but she didn’t mind—it was the only way she was able to get a goods night sleep. 

Her night terrors were the least of her problems, the weird weather was continuing. One night, a thunderstorm blew out Percy’s windows. A few nights later, the biggest tornado ever was spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only a few miles away from Yancy Academy. The weather was starting to reflect her mood.

She was feeling cranky and tired all the time. Her grades from mostly B’s and C’s slipped to D’s and F’s. She got into more arguments with Nancy Bobofit, leaving with Nancy Bobofit in tears. She got into actual fights with Dylan more, walking away with bloody and bruised knuckles with Dylan’s whimpers left behind her. She was sent to the hallway in almost all of her classes.

When her English teacher—Mr. Nicoll—asked her why she never studied, Percy didn’t know what came over her but she started calling him names in Spanish, English, Portuguese and Latin all mixed together. The only thing he could understand was ‘Old Sot’—which Percy didn’t even know what that meant, but it felt _good_.

She felt grateful that the only language he understood was English when the headmaster sent her mother a letter the following week—Percy Jackson will not be invited to Yancy Academy next year.

Percy wanted to kill herself. She hated the school, don’t get her wrong—but her mother nearly went into debt getting Percy into the school. While she was filled with guilt, she couldn’t help but feel happy. She was homesick anyway, Grover’s hugs were good but her mother’s were great.

She wanted to be with her mother in their small little apartment in Washington Heights. She wanted to wake up early with her mother, blast Latin and Caribbean music and sing at the top of their lungs as they made the apartment practically sparkle. She wanted to make pastel with her mother, make cookies and brownies. 

It wasn’t just her mother she missed—despite Gabe living with them, that apartment—that neighborhood was their home. She missed the little bakery down the street, the old woman she adored who she called _Vovó Rebecca_—who was a small Dominican Republican who screamed “_ALABANZA_” at the top of her lungs. She wanted to go to the corner street with her mother again, greeting the uncle and nephew who ran the shop who both came from Puerto Rico.

There was only one thing that Percy would miss about Yancy Academy—Grover Underwood. She thought she would miss Kayla, but she’s been distant ever since and the little crush Percy developed on her started to disappear. Whenever Kayla even did talk to Percy, all she would do was complain about her problems. Kayla was nice—she’s probably the nicest teenager Percy had the pleasure of knowing, but she would complain about nails and how her father took away her credit card. Percy didn’t mind girly-girls—she had a phase where the only thing she wanted to do was wear dresses, skirts and prance around in heels. But Kayla just seemed annoying now.

It was a week before finals, and Percy had managed to bring all her grades up to C’s—Latin was her only class that she had a B- in. 

Grover was somewhere, out of the dorm, while Percy paces around the room as if she had ants under her shirt that she stole from Grover. She refused to look at Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology. The words floated off the pages, some of them doing 180’s (she had a skateboard and she couldn’t help but feel jealous that fucking letters had more skill than she did) and settling down at random parts of the pages. She wanted to tear her hair out of her scalp—there was no way she could tell the difference between Chiron and Charon or Polydictes and Polydeuces. She could feel tears disobeying her number one rule (don’t cry) and swimming down her cheek.

She hurriedly wipe them away, and clenched her fists so tightly that her long nails made crescent marks on her palms.

Why was she so stupid?

She looked at the text on her bed, and she felt like crying again. She remembered her mother’s words (_Acalma - te, idiota hiperactivo_) and picked up the book.

She never asked a teacher for help before.

Perhaps if she talked to Mr. Brunner—he would give her a few pointers, and she could at least apologize for the F she was about to get on the exam. If she was gonna leave Yancy Academy—she didn’t want to leave, leaving him thinking that she didn’t try because she did, she gave it her all.

Yancy Academy was big, so she walked for five minutes in almost complete silence. She in the faculty’s office, all of their lights were off except for one—Mr. Brunner’s.

She reached her hand out, and the moment her fingers touched the doorknob—she heard Grover’s voice. “...worried about Percy, sir.” She immediately froze, her grip on the textbook tightening immediately. 

Percy was a naturally curious child, and made a bad habit of eavesdropping. She would deny it until she was dead however, but her best friend was talking to her teacher—the only adult in the building that actually liked her—about her. She thought it was a good enough of excuse. 

She took her hand off the knob, and inched herself closer. “...alone this summer,” Grover said. “I mean—a kindly one in the school! Now we know for sure,” what the fuck was a _kindly one_? “And they know too—”

“We would only make matters worse by rushing her,” Mr. Brunner said. “We need her to mature more.”

“But she may not have time! The summer solstice deadline—”

“Will be resolved _without_ her, Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can.”

“Sir, she saw her.” _Her_? _Mrs. Dodds_? Percy nearly yelled, she knew she wasn’t crazy.

“Her imagination,” Mr. Brunner insisted. “The mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince her.”

“I...I can’t fail again, sir.” Grover sounded like he was about to cry. “You know what that would mean.” Ignoring the fact that they were talking about her, who hurt her precious Grover and who did she have to punish?

“You haven’t failed, Grover.” Mr. a runner reassured Grover. “I should have seen her for what she was, but for now let’s focus on keeping Percy alive until next fall—”

The mythology book in Percy’s small and thin hands escaped her sweaty hold, and she nearly cursed right then and there. Mr. Bruner fell silent, and as he did—Percy quickly grabbed the mythology book as quite as she could and backed down the hall as silently as she could. 

As she was backing up, and saw Mr. Brunner’s shadow slid across the lighted glass of Mr. Brunner’s office. She then dismissed it as Mr. Brunner, she knew how tall Mr. Brunner and he had said multiple times he was paralyzed from waist down. He couldn’t stand up. 

Or at least—he shouldn’t. 

Percy opened the nearest door, and slid inside. She backed up until her back hit a wall, and cursed herself for choosing a janitors closet. The mop was wet, and was making the floor around it wet as well. The sandals she quickly slipped on were thin, and she curled her toes immediately when it came into contact with cold water. 

A few minutes later—Percy heard a clop-clop-clop, and then a sound that smelled like an animal sniffing outside of the janitors closet. She immediately held her breath, and clutched her mythology book close to her chest—ignoring how hard she was pressing it into her chest and how it kind of hurt. Her hands shook lightly, and she still was sweating. She could fell the sweat gathering, and a bead of it trailed down her cheek. A large dark shadow pressed against the door, and she cursed herself for choosing not only a janitors closet but one with a tinted window.

The shadow moved, and she held her breath of relief. Was he the unusually large shadow? She dismissed it when she heard his voice start speaking somewhere in the hallway. “Nothing,” he murmured. “My nerves haven’t been right since the winter solstice.”

What the fuck does that mean?

”Mine either,” Grover confessed. “But I could have sworn,” as Grover took one step—Percy immediately started holding her breath again when she heard a clop—like hooves. 

“Go back to the dorm,” Mr. Brunner said before Grover could take anymore steps. “You have a long day of exams tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me.”

She waited what seemed like forever, trying to calm herself down. It was a stupid worry—nobody could hear her heartbeat (right?) but she suddenly realized what those girls in her mom’s romance novels meant if the boy they liked could ‘hear how loud their heart beating.’ Except, she wasn’t cornered into a corner by a tall white boy—but was cornered into a closet out of... fear? She doesn’t even know.

She slipped out of the closet quietly, and winced when her sandals made a disgusting sound against the floor. Fuck, why did she have to choose the closet with a wet mop? She wasn’t going to take off her sandals, though, and walk barefoot to her dorm. She immediately went on her tippy-toes, and held back a sigh of relief when she walked—there was no disgusting sound. 

It was quiet as she walked back to her dorms, the scene of a horror movie. There was no lights, the only light was from the big and glowing moon. She finally reached her dorm and unlocked the door, to see Grover under his blankets. 

“Hey,” he said with a kind smile. She stopped in her tracks, her book still held to her chest. “You going to be ready for this test?” She only swallowed and didn’t provide him an answer. She started to move towards her bed, and immediately took her sandals off. “Are you okay, Percy?” He had a worrier look, and she almost cooed. Grover was a pure soul.   
  
She was silent for a moment, her brows furrowed before she answered. “Just tired...” she immediately crawled into bed, planting the side of her head against the pillow and taking another one to hug. Her back was towards Grover, she didn’t want to worry him any further and she didn’t want to talk to him. 

She didn’t understand on what she heard downstairs. Worst case scenario came to mind: was Grover talking to Mr. Brunner on what a terrible and trouble-making person she was? Then what was the talk about The Kindly Ones? Or the Winter Solstice? Is Grover... pagan?

All she understood was Grover was talking to Mr. Brunner about her. She clutched her pillow even tighter as a stray thought came to mine: was she in some kind of trouble?

It was the next day, and in the afternoon. Percy handed in her test for Latin, not even looking at the sheet of paper that had thousand of misspelled words on it. It genuinely sucks having dyslexia. Mr. Brunner stopped Percy from heading back to her seat, and he had a look of pity written all over his face. She immediately tried to calm down her racing heart, so he didn’t find out that she eavesdropped on his conversation with Grover about her.

”Percy,” his voice was soft and quiet—as if he was talking to a child. “Don’t be discouraged about leaving Yancy Academy. It’s...” he swallowed. “It’s for the best.”

She was silent for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes and clenched fists. “O-okay sir..” she hated how weak her voice sounded.   
  
“I mean...” he wheeled his chair back and forth a couple of times, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “This isn’t the right place for you.” He avoided her gaze. “It was only a matter of time.”

_It was only a matter of time._

She let a tear trail down her cheek and immediately wiped it away—she knew he saw it from the look of horror on his face. She didn’t care. Here was her favorite teacher, who believed in her all year—who always comforted her when she nearly cried out of frustration because spelling was hard—English was hard, and saying that she was going to fail anyway. Was it all a lie? Did he never believe in her from the start?

”Right,” she said, her lips trembling. It doesn’t matter anymore, she’ll show him—she’ll be the best of the best. She’ll finish school, she’ll go to college and help support her mom. She’ll be financially stable—it will be the biggest SCREW YOU to anyone who has ever doubted her.

”I-I didn’t mean it like that—”

”It’s okay, sir.”

”I mean to say—you’re not... normal Percy.”

What a piece of actual shit. “Thanks,” her voice was cold and quiet. “Thanks a lot, sir. For reminding me.”   
  


If he said anything—she didn’t hear it. She was already out of the classroom with tears streaming down her face as she walked towards the direction of her dorm. 

It was soon the last day of the term, and she was doing some last minute packing. She was shoving her shoes into her suitcase, and ignored the fact that they had creases. Her roommates were joking around, bragging about what places they’ll be going. Dylan wasn’t one of her roommates, but he was friends with one of them—and he waltzed towards her direction—a smug smile on his face. “Whatcha gonna be doing this summer?”

”Gonna go back to the city.” She mumbled as she pulled the zipper, and pulled her backpack on. She was wearing a hoodie she stole from Grover—it smelt like grass and dirt—with ripped jeans and some old Jordan’s that still mysteriously fit. 

“Oh,” one of them said. “That’s cool.” They went back to their conversation as if she never existed, and preferred it that way. She was already walking out of the dorm, two large suitcases in her hand. She tried to stop thinking on what kind of summer jobs she could get to help support her mom, or if she was even going to go back to school in fall.

The only person she’d missed would be Grover, but it turns out she didn’t even have to say goodbye to him. He bought the same ticket as her, and they boarded the bus. During the whole ride, he kept glancing nervously down and up the aisle. He eyed a few passengers down warily—a big man with a leather jacket, a small four year old yelling at the top of its lungs, even a crippled old man. She noticed he was always weird whenever they left school property, as if he expected them to get jumped.

Its New York after all, she didn’t blame him. But she couldn’t stand his fidgeting, and the man in the leather jacket was starting to look pissed. “Are you looking for Kindly Ones?” He immediately stooped, and looked at her with wide eyes. “Cause trust me, they ain’t here.”

”What... what do you mean?” Percy rolled her eyes and confessed to eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner. “How much did you hear?” His eyes narrowed.

Percy shrugged. “Barely anything,” she started picking at her nails. “The hell is the Winter Solstice deadline?”

He winced. “Percy—I was just worried about.” She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. Her mother had the same look, she called it WHAT-YOURE-SAYING-IS-BULLSHIT-AND-YOU-KNOW-IT look. 

“Grover—“

“And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were stressed or overwhelmed, or something—and that you were going around talking about some teacher named Mrs. Dodds—”

“Grover shut the hell up, you’re a horrible a liar.” His ears turned pink. He went through his pocket and pulled out a small business card. It had a fancy font, and she nearly wanted to throw herself off the bus then read the card but she was able to make out some words.

Grover Underwood: KEEPER.   
  
Half Blood Hill (LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK).

(800) 009-0009

”What the hell is a—”

“Don’t say it!” He whispered shouted. “That’s my, um... summer address?” Percy rolled her eyes but didn’t comment any further. “For when you need me...”

She hated the fact that her mouth had a mind of its own. “Why would I need you?” She wanted to smash her head against the window, especially when Grover winced and had a sad look on his features. 

“To protect you.”

She stared at him with blank eyes and a raised eyebrow. She’d got into fights to defend his honor, she got into detention for him, she’s been the one protecting him. “What are you protecting me from?”

Suddenly, there was a huge grinding noise. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus started smelling like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the road. He yelled that all passengers would have to get off, and Percy put on her bag and grabbed her suitcases and got off the bus.

She didn’t recognized where they were. They were on the side of the country, and it had nothing but maple trees and passing cars. On the other side of the road, there was lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, and a old-fashioned fruit stand ran. There was no customers, just three old ladies under a maple tree and knitting large pieces of cloth.   
  
They wore a headscarf—all three of them, and it was grey with black floral designing—same as their old fashioned dresses. Their headscarf had a large, white feather peaking out. Only two old ladies were knitting, and the one in the middle held a basket of the prettiest blue Percy has ever seen. It was the color of the sky, and just as bright.

She’ve seen more fashionable old ladies, but their looking wasn’t the thing that bothered her—it was the fact that they were staring straight right at her. Percy looked at Grover beside her, and saw the look of horror on his face. “Grover—” he cut her off. 

“Tell me they aren’t looking at you. Tell me they aren’t looking at you.” He looked at her. “Percy, tell me.”

She rolled her eyes—she seemed to be doing a lot of that. “They’re looking at me.” He looked more horrified more than ever. “They’re old ladies, Grover—they cant harm anybody.” The old lady in the middle took out a pair of scissors—and it was threatening. Percy suddenly felt a chill erupt from her. The scissors were long and sharp, with gold and black designs.   
  


Grover held his breath.

The old lady in the middle reached for the yarn in the basket, and Percy realized they looked ancient. Every layer, every patch of skin was covered in thousands of wrinkles and they were sickly pale—as if a gasp of breath away from death. 

  
Her eyes were pitch black, why were her eyes pitch black? They all started smiling, and they were still watching Percy.

_Snip_.

They cut a piece of blue string, and her breath got caught in her throat as she watched the string of yarn fall down to the ground. She didn’t even wonder why she could hear them cutting the yarn over traffic. A car passed, and the old ladies were suddenly gone.

Grover grabbed Percy’s forearm, in his other hand—both of her suitcases—and started hauling her to the bus. They sat in their seat, Grover out of breath and looking near to tears. 

They were silent for a moment and Percy opened her mouth to speak. “Those just weren’t old ladies, were they.” It wasn’t a question, and Grover looked at her as if he was planning her funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was rushed could you tell


	4. 𝘗. 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘪𝘢 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯: 𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗦

* * *

**PERSEUS CASSIOPEIA JACKSON**

_Daughter of ‘The Siren of the Heights’_

Kid, ”Sephy”, Sea

* * *

**” ** _No hero has ever been happy—I’ll be the first._ **”**

* * *

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

* * *

**IF HER MOTHER **found out what Percy had just done, she would’ve gotten the biggest whipping of the century. Confession time: Percy left Grover’s ass the minute she could. It went a little like this:

Whenever Grover got upset, his bladder would act up and he would have to go to the bathroom. He kept staring at Percy weirdly—not in a way that horny boys (and sometimes questioning girls) would stare at her, but in a way as if he expected her to die sort of way. He kept muttering things under his breath that she couldn’t catch (she only caught a few words, like six-graders or so young). He made Percy promise to wait for him as he ran to the bathroom, and so—instead of waiting, she grabbed her suitcase and caught a cab. 

As she told the driver her address, her thoughts kept going back to her mother. The men would always cat-call her because she was a reasonably attractive woman. Percy kept trying to set her up with the Puerto Rican who ran a store, but she would always smile sadly and said she was married to Gabe—ugh.   
  
Her name was Sarah Jackson, but nearly everyone called her Sally or Sal. She was everything good on the cruel earth, having a natural aura of warmth and home to her. She was always kind to everyone, Percy had always see her grab the leftovers and go to the neighbors who didn’t have as much food. Which just proved Percy’s theory that the best people in the world have the worst luck.   
  


Her parents died in a plane crash, and she dropped out of high school to take care of her uncle who had cancer. Then her great-aunt (Percy’s great-great-aunt) Cassiopeia passed away, leaving Sally alone in a America—refusing to go back to her home country.   
  


Her mother always told her the story, her eyes brimming with tears and a frown on her face. Percy looked exactly like her mother, but she always thought her mother was prettier. She would then smile as she came to the next part, her eyes lighting up as her face soon became clear of its troubles and worries. The part was the part Percy always hated when her mom told her about her life story.   
  


The part where Sally Jackson met the worlds most worst person—not Gabe, though he was a close second—Percy’s father. Percy didn’t have any memories of him, just a picture of him, she only remembered sitting in front of the door with a family of three drawing in her hand impatiently—just waiting for her dad to come home.

He never did.

Which is why Percy couldn’t understand why her mom loved him so much. She always spoke of him with such warmth and softness that anyone would want to meet the guy. She spoke of their adventures, him helping her out with her pregnancy cravings and she throwing random stuff at him.   
  


They were happy, and her mom always told her that her father would help her—they would get married. Then he just vanished.   
  


Lost at sea, her mom always said. Not dead, lost at sea.   
  


The one picture she had of him was underneath her mattress. As much as she wanted to throw it away, she couldn’t bring herself too. Her father was tall, with messy black hair and enchanting green eyes with deeply tan skin. He seemed like a surfer guy, with his cocky smile and slim but muscular stature.   
  


She only looks at the picture once a year, in her desperate needs of time when she felt like she was forgetting what her father was. Maybe it was some kind of torture to herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to carry it around.

Her mom worked multiple jobs, took multiple night classes to finish her diploma and raised Percy on her own. She rarely got mad, her voice got sharp and stern and she glared and furrowed her brows—but she never got mad. She never raised her voice at Percy, but she wasn’t afraid at raising it at anyone else.   
  


She got out of the cab, and was immediately recognized by site. “Ay, yo!” It was the Puerto Rican kid, the nephew who helped out his uncle with the store. He was tall and scrawny, his legs too long for his body so he was mostly seen stumbling. He had curly hair with freckles dotting his nose. He was older than her, by two years, and his uncle would sometimes let her help out in the store during the summer. “Percy’s back!”

_Vovo Rebecca_ kissed her cheeks, gazing at her with soft brown eyes as she whispered alabanza underneath her breath. Multiple children, Hispanic and black, extremely young, shouted her name as she passed by. They were playing with the broken water hydrant, which was squirting water everywhere.

”Have you seen ma?” Some of the adults shook their heads, while a teenager claimed she was till working. Percy continued her way home until she saw a familiar apartment building with graffiti on the side. She entered the building.

She climbed up the stairs until she found the familiar busted door that belonged to the Jackson family. The walls were thin in the building, so Percy could hear Gabe’s ugly laugh. As Percy entered the room, her nose immediately crinkled up. Her and her mother has always been clean-freaks, and Gabe was an absolute slob.

”Vaca,” she growled at Gabe who had a cigar between his lips, as he played poker with his Caucasian buddies. “What the hell?!”

He pretended as if he never heard her. “You got any cash?”

”Where’s my ma?”

”Working,” he grunted. “Have you got any cash?” He asked again, and Percy shook her head — knowing that she had three ten dollar bills in her pocket. Instead of answering him, Percy studied the walrus her mother called a husband. If any possible, he put on more weight. Gabe didn’t have any bad eating habits, but he was an alcoholic. He was balding, but with the hair he did have was all greasy and his scalp was dry. Wherever he went, he left dandruff behind and beer bottles behind.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You took a taxi from the station,” he sniffed the air like the dog he was. It was truly a miracle that Gabe did not lose his ability to smell. Before he could go on a rant, Percy slapped two tens on the table and left to her room.

  
“Hope you lose all of your money, shit-face!”

He only laughed, resembling a clapping seal. “Your report card came in, girly!” He shouted. “I wouldn’t act all snooty!”

Her response was shutting the door, and letting out a wince once she saw her room. Whenever she left for boarding school, Gabe always turned her room into his office — if one could even call it that. Used socks, that were definitely not used for feet, littered all over the floor with dirty and smelly shoes. She practically gagged as she saw a cockroach come out one of the muddy shoes on her windowsill. She opened the window, and climb out to the fire escape. As soon as she leaned against the cold railing, thoughts of Grover’s worried face entered her mind.

She groaned, placing her face into her hands. A sudden chill of fear ran through her body. The image of large, threatening talons entered her mind along with a screaming face and demonic-like wings. Before she knew it, a voice with a thick accent reached her ears: “Perseus?”

She climbed out of the window, and suddenly Percy felt relaxed. People always commented that Percy and her mother looked similar, but Percy never saw it. In her mind, her mother represented all that was good in the world. Just being in her presence calmed Percy’s nerves. “Hi mom,” Percy mutters and a smile broke out on her mother’s face.

”Have you grown, _preto_?” Her mom teased, and Percy rolled her eyes, but she smiled nonetheless. Her mother had her uniform from the bakery she worked at a few block down, smelling like coffee and pastels. She had a smile as she presented Percy with Garoto: a yellow box of Brazilian chocolate. Her mom always got her something from the bakery whenever Percy came home from her boarding school of the year.   
  
She disappeared for only a few minutes, reappearing with a chair that she sat down and instructed that Percy sat down in front of her. Percy smiled as her mother started smothering her, her mother’s hands in her messy curls that she called hair. She felt a spray of water mixed with conditioner hit her hair, and she didn’t even flinch when her mother started brushing her hair. They talked for hours, and Percy could see the sun going down while her mother did box-braids on her.   
  


She was half-way done when they both heard Gabe’s voice: “Oi, Sally! Where’s dinner?!” Percy rolled her eyes, and her mother gently slapped Percy’s temple. While her mother responded back, she wondered how her mother — such a sweet and caring person — ended up with a deadbeat called Gabe.

And Percy let her know with every chance she got. “The guy in the next building is interested.”

Her mom rolled her eyes, as if this was a common occurrence — which it was. “Perce—”

”I think he’s in your class, mom, the one that looks like a movie-star? If you’re going to date a white guy, date him—“

”Percy,” she said with a small, sad smile. “I’m married to Gabe.”

Percy scoffed. “_And_? Gabe shouldn’t even be classified as a human, beastiality is illegal mom—”

She slapped Percy’s temple, but she laughed. “Shut your mouth, Percy.” She stopped braiding for a few seconds, to control her giggles but she was still smiling. “I have a surprise for you,” her mom cooed. “We’re going to the beach.”

Any lingering thoughts on Grover and Mrs. Dodds disappeared as Percy’s eyes widened as a smile took over her face. “Montauk?!”

She nodded. “Three nights — same cabin.”

“When?”  
  
She laughed. “As soon as I cleaned Gabe’s car.” Percy let out a squeal, which made her mom laugh even more at her excitement. They haven’t been to Montauk in years, not ever since Gabe came into their life and started demanding more money.   
  


As if on cue, Gabe appeared on the window. “Sally? Where’s the food?”

Her mom eyes narrowed and her smile vanished. “_Puta_, your dinner is in the fridge. Me and Percy were discussing the trip.”

His eyes gotten small. “You were serious about that?” Percy started grumbling her breath (“I knew it”) which her mom tsked at, practically glaring at Gabe.

They went back and forth, with her mom coming out victorious, a smug look on her face with Gabe wobbling away to eat his dinner. Once he disappeared, her mom went back to braiding. “Once we get to Montauk, you are telling me everything.” Percy’s mom practically glared at her, and Percy deflated.

Of course her mom knew she was hiding something without even asking. How did she even do that? A voice in her head, that eerily sounded similar to her mom, said: Because I’m your mother and a Brazilian — we know everything.   
  


***  
  


Two hours later, they were ready. Percy didn’t even bother unpacking, dragging her suitcase and backpack to the car that her mom had just cleaned. While she started piling her moms bags into the car, Gabe had taken a break to watch her. “If I see one scratch on my car, girly.” His eyes narrowed. “Your getting it.”

Percy rolled her eyes. “Don’t know how to drive, genius. And I’m twelve.” As she watched Gabe waddle back to the apartment building, she felt a strong instinct to make a hand gesture she saw Grover make on the bus. She clawed over her heart, and then a shoving movement and watched with wide eyes as the back door of the building hit Gabe on his ass.

She entered the car and told her mom to drive. She didn’t know if it was some freak accident, or the window but she wasn’t sticking around to find out. 

Her thoughts drifted to Montauk. It was a rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded cur-tains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in. Despite all of this, Percy adored it.   
  


As they grow closer to the location, Percy felt herself become more calmer and watched as her mother become more younger. The lines of age seemed to disappear, despite the fact that she was smiling, and the suns light seemed to hide the few grey strands of hair in her curly brown locks.   
  


They soon arrived, opening all the windows and doing a small cleaning session — her mom blasting music from their home country as she did so. They walked on the beach, collecting seashells as they did so and skipping rocks and feeding seagulls the blue food her mother had also brought from work. When the sun disappeared and the moon became visible, they lit a fire.

Percy brought her knees to her chest, placing her chin on them as she listened to her mother talk about Brazil and their extended family. She bragged on how she was younger, she would get all the guys — dating ex-soccer players, catching the attention of gangsters that littered the street like rats crawled all over New York. While she talked on how dangerous it was (every Wednesday morning, you get down on the floor because your local gangs decided to have a gun fight) but Percy never got tired of hearing it.

With the jacket that belonged to her father wrapped around her, she chewed on the hotdog that had smashed potato and other things and swallowed. She asked the question that she always did whenever they came to Montauk. “What was dad like?”

Her eyes got misty, and a sad smile graced her lips as she prepared herself to say the same thing as she always did whenever Percy asked the question: “an idiot.” She scoffed, tears brimming the edges of her ears but her smile was still there. “A huge one, but his heart made up for his lack of intelligence. He was pretty to look at, tall too. You have the color of his hair,” she whispered the last sentence as if it was a secret. “His eyes, too.”

She asked the next question she always asked after getting her answer for the first one. “Was he good... to you?”

Her mom smiled, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yea,” she whispered. “He was...” she wiped her tear away. “He would’ve been so proud of you — of the girl you’re becoming.”

She was silent for a moment, wondering if she was really telling the truth. Sure, Percy was nice to look at but it seems that’s were it ends. She wasn’t as smart as the others, and she couldn’t keep still no matter what does and she gets called a freak for having ADHD and all she does is get into trouble. She nearly scoffed, proud, right.

”How old was I?” She asked, already knowing the answer. “When he left?”

”Just born,” she said after a moment of silence. She moved until she sat down next to Percy, wrapping an arm around her as they stared straight into the fire. “He didn’t want to leave you, Perce, but he had business and then...” the words “he got lost” were unsaid but still echoed in the silence of the wind.   
  


A memory of a glowing smile, that seemed to white to be natural, appeared in her mind.   
  


“I’m sorry,” she could already feel the tears wanting to escape. “For getting kicked out — again.” Her mom cooed and hugged her with both arms this time, Percy’s head resting where her heart should be. “I’m a horrible—”

”You are,” she said intensely. “The best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t care what you do with your life, Perseus, as long as you’re alive—” she seemed to choke on the word. “—and happy.” Her mom started to mutter in rapid Portuguese, so quietly that Percy could barely hear it — only translating some words into English. Summer-camp. Special. And away.

They retired to bed and Percy had a dream.   
  


It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuck-led somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

Before she knew it, her legs moved on her own and she started to run towards them. It was like she was in a movie, though, running in slow motion. She tried to make her legs move faster, but if possible — they moved slower. She saw the eagle, in all of its huge glory, swipe down at the horse and a large “NO!” escape her mouth.

She woke up, sitting up straight and breathing heavily. The sounds of rain hit against the window angrily, as if they were trying to get in and Percy flinched when she heard a loud clap of thunder. She peaked out of the window, only to see the waves as angry as the water coming out of the sky. Percy eyes widened, if they don’t get up soon — they would end up getting flooded. Before she could wake up her mom, nature did it for her.

At the next clap of thunder, her mother jolted up — her eyes wide and a frown on her face. She no longer looked younger as she did when they arrived, appearing more older than she usually was, the lines of age more evident and deeper on her face. Only one word escaped her mouth: “hurricane.”

Someone pounded on the door, and Percy let out a screech. Her mother got up and opened the door, only to reveal a heavily drenched Grover. But... it wasn’t Grover.

”Searching all night,” he gasped. “What where you thinking?”

Percy’s mom whipped her head around, a glare on Percy’s short stature. “Perseus! What didn’t you tell me?! What happened at school?!” Percy wasn’t paying attention to any of that, even though she should.   
  


What she was seeing shouldn’t be possible. “_O Zeu kai alloi theoi_!” he yelled. “It’s right behind me! Didn't you tell her?” She ignored the fact that he cursed in Ancient Greek and understood him perfectly.

“What the hell...” she muttered, her eyes wide. Nobody seemed to hear her, and her mom raised her voice louder to make sure Percy heard her.

“Percy lets get in the car!” Her mom started packing things, while Percy stood in her spot — still in shock. “Percy! Let’s go!”

“No one is gonna talk ‘bout the fact that Grover’s a fucking donkey?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kay, one : keep the comments coming im loving the attention  
two : i wrote a Harry Potter book 👉🏽👈🏽 pls read it (oahslsbalsba it’s got like an arc thingy but im already done with the prologue and the first three chapters when im close to seven or ten ill be posting the chapters, prologue is being posted tmmrw and all my updates are at the witching hour , at least imma try, 3 AM)


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